


Thirty-Two Days

by barricadebutts



Series: 100 Prompts of Odesta [3]
Category: Hunger Games (2012), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: 100 Writing Prompts Challenge, F/M, Odesta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:11:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barricadebutts/pseuds/barricadebutts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 3 in a 100 Prompt challenge revolving around the everyday affairs of Annie and Finnick. <br/>Finnick is struggling with Annie's silence after she comes home from the games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirty-Two Days

It’s been about three, maybe four weeks since Annie’s gotten home from the Hunger Games. She hasn’t said much to Finnick in the past few weeks and if anyone looked at him, it was pretty obvious. He has bags under his eyes from a lack of sleep caused by worrying about Annie. His daily activities are lethargic and dragged out, not at all the young spirited man he was before she went in.

Sure, Annie will still eat and sleep fitfully through her nightmares, but he can tell the silence is hurting her. Finnick doesn’t know what to do though; Mags told him to let her come out of her shell on her own.

He’ll find her most days sitting outback in the sand, watching the waves crash into the shore, one after another. She stares unblinkingly out at the horizon, refusing to make eye contact when he sits down beside her with a notebook. Finnick will often be the one to scoop her up in his arms and take her back into the house, into her bedroom where she’ll sleep another restless slumber. He’s even taken to sleeping in her guest bedroom, able to be at her side in a moment’s notice.

\----------

It’s day twenty-nine, Finnick counts in his book, and she still hasn’t talked to him. The sun is setting on the horizon and Finnick sits up on Annie’s porch while she’s down in the sand as usual. She has a blanket splayed beneath her today, her head facing the sky while she’s laying back. Finnick can’t tell if she’s just staring or sleeping from over exhaustion.

There’s a small fire that he lit next to her in hopes for keeping her at least a little warm in the slowly dropping temperature.

He finishes his thoughts just as a scream erupts from the blanket down by the sea. Finnick’s head shoots up at the sound and before ten second can pass, he’s out of his chair and running down the sand dune towards Annie who is now sitting straight up on the sand.

Finnick slides down next to her, slightly out of breath. She looks around frantically trying to catch her bearings when her eyes land of Finnick. She reaches for him, desperately wanting to curl up in his arms and releases a slight whimper when she’s achieved just that. A relieved sigh escapes from Finnick’s lips, whether it’s because he’s glad she’s acknowledging him or because she’s all right, he doesn’t contemplate the thought at the moment.

\----------

It’s a few days later and Annie has gone back to her stoic, oblivious self. Finnick is still sleeping in her guest bedroom and she seems to not mind for the time being. She’s up in her room reading on the windowsill while Finnick rushes over to Mags’ house jittery with pent up frustrations. He hasn’t had anyone to really talk to in depth about what’s happened to Annie in at least a week and a half.

Approaching the paint chipped screen door, Finnick bangs his knuckles against the doorframe hearing a dull echo from inside. He hears a quiet muffle from inside the house that he suspects is Mags letting him in so he composes himself slightly before walking over the threshold.

Finnick finds Mags sitting in the sunroom off the kitchen with her current knitting project in her lap to keep her busy in the gloomy weather of the day. She doesn’t seem surprised to see him when he practically falls into wing-backed chair adjacent to the couch. He rubs his hands over his face and takes a deep breath.

“I don’t know what to do, Mags. I’m lost without her voice.” This isn’t the first time Finnick has been to Mags’ house in the past month and Mags just looks at him with those sad eyes of hers. “It’s been thirty-two days Mags. _Thirty-two days.”_ Finnick’s voice breaks on the last word.

“Everyone’s like that at first, you know,” Mags speaks up for the first time. She sets down her knitting needles and opens the drawer in the coffee table to retrieve a notebook. She opens it to a page a little ways in and folds back the cover. “Did you know that you went through a period of fourteen days of silence?” She flips the page back one. “And before you, Katharine went through seventeen days. The games are hard on everyone, Finnick.”

Finnick looks up at Mags with a confused look on his face. “You keep a record book of how many days each of the victors took before talking to people again?” He seems amazed but it does seem like the kind of thing the old woman would do.

“Career or not, the games leave a certain mark on everyone that enters them. The point is, you can’t _force_ her to talk. But maybe you can help her get to the breaking point faster.” Finnick’s eyes get hopeful as she continues talking. “Sand.”

“Sand?” He’s confused now with the one word. There’s sand everywhere, it practically makes up the majority of District 4. Hell, Annie’s been sitting in it for the past thirty-two days. “She’s been around sand the whole time now, if that’s all it was wouldn’t she have talked by now?”

“She needs the memories that come with the sand. She needs her old house by the sea and the boy who shared his time with her.” The mist parts and Finnick feels like he can see again. Was it really that simple? “This new house, the new sand, it’s different to her. In a way, it’s a reminder of the games. Take her to the old beaches and let me know what happens.” He nods and gets up from the chair he’s been sitting in.

\----------

The next day it’s sunny again and Finnick packs a lunch for him and Annie and tells her that he’s going to take her to a different beach today.  She nods reluctantly and they set out around ten and arrive around ten forty-five having grabbed some fresh fruit along the way.

As they near her childhood house, a look of recognition dawns on Annie’s face and a faint gasp escapes her lips as she looks at the state its in. No one as moved into it after her family left, but there are holes in several of the windows from rocks being thrown as it and the yard is overgrown. Finnick gently tugs her along, away from the dilapidated house to a few houses down where they can get to the beach.

When they get there, he lays down a small blanket, barely big enough for two people, and sets their picnic basket to the side.

“I thought you might want to come to a beach that was a little bit more homely than the neat ones by the victor’s village,” Finnick summarizes.

Annie nods slightly and runs her hands through the sand, still cool from the night before. “Thank you.”

The words are so sudden that Finnick wants to break down into joyful tears right then and there. “Annie?” he whispers, not trusting his own voice.

She looks over at him and realizes that she’s crying slightly. One look at her and he’s pulled her to him in an embrace that he’s wanted to give her for thirty-two days now. “It’s okay, Annie. It’s okay. We’ll get through this. I’ll help you get through this.” And then suddenly everything else seems possible.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry I took a few days getting to this one. This is clearly the longest of the drabbles yet, but I'm happy with it. I didn't count the days when they were still in the capitol as days when she didn't talk to him (even though she still didn't). Anyways, I hope you enjoy and let me know what you thought of it.


End file.
